Caben spins and tosses a stunned Hypno to the ground. Again he attempts to put him out before the weapons descend.
Now able to breathe, I respond to Bax. “The goddesses don’t play games with lives. I would question who I serve if I thought otherwise.” I slide a slanted glance his way.
Bax’s body shakes with a silent laugh. “Protector, you amaze me,” he says. “And here I thought we shared a kinship—that you above all the others would understand how it works.”
“A kinship?” I spit, shocked he believes I could ever be like him. “You enslave people and force them to kill for sport. You attack countries and murder innocents.” I glare at him. “We are nothing alike.”
He raises an eyebrow. The silver rings glint in the projected moonlight. “If your empress ordered you to war with Perinya in the name of your goddess, you would not do so?”
Hearing a collective “boo” from the crowd, I turn and seek Caben in the Cage. He’s lost his grip on Hypno, and now fists fly. Blood trails his right eye. I try to keep my attention on him while answering Bax. “My empress would never request that unless it was necessary. My goddesses would never ask that of us unless there was no other alternative.”
“Ah,” he says, humor lacing his voice. “But what of your Council?”
My gaze snaps to his pale face. “They serve the empress.” I feel this statement is obvious and should end the quarrel. Our rule in Cavan is without question.
Bax shakes his head slightly. “Obviously, you are young yet and will learn in time. That is, if you survive the Reckoning.”
Here is my opening. I part my lips to question the Reckoning itself, but the hunter’s horn fills the Otherworld. My blood screams.
The weapons are entering the Cage.
Letting Bax have the last word, I ignore his smug expression, and instead watch as Caben and Hypno separate. They jump for the weapons. Hypno is closest to a combat spear, the head fastened into a razor sharp obsidian leaf.
I curse under my breath. “Goddess.” Of course we didn’t get around to practicing with spears. But then I spot the warrior sword similar to the ones the Otherworlders carry descending a few feet from Caben. It wi
ll handle differently than our practice broadsword, but he’s at least learned the basics of technique.
Caben unhooks the sword from the chain and arcs it through the air in an 8 formation. After testing it, he advances toward Hypno. Before he reaches his opponent, Hypno drops his spear near his feet and begins sliding off his gloves. I assume he needs a firmer grip on his weapon, but when he reveals his arms, my eyes widen in alarm.
“What the goddess . . . ? That’s not possible,” I mutter. The black and white flesh of Hypno’s arms swirls in a slow, transfixing motion. It’s as if his skin has been liquefied, and a clear, hard coating traps the substance inside.
My hand goes to my chest, feeling the glass cover beneath my tunic. Does the same material encase Hypno’s arms?
“It is possible,” Bax says. I hadn’t realized I spoke out loud. “When you have the favor of the dark priest, of course. Bale gifts those who serve her unconditionally.”
“That’s not a gift,” I say. “It’s a mutation.” And I know this. I’ve lived every day after my incident hiding my own mutation from the world. “How does Collar have favor over the priest’s own son?”
A low groan rumbles from deep within Bax’s chest. “Do not speak of things you know nothing of, protector.”
Despite feeling that I landed a mental blow and returned the insult for Bax’s earlier slight, it’s a hollow victory. My heart races, the muscles in my neck tense, as I watch Caben fight to keep hold of his sword.
Hypno thrusts his spear, and Caben reacts a fraction of a second too late. The leaf grazes the side of his waist, drawing a seam of blood. I wince. Caben shakes his head, rubs his forearm over his eyes, and raises his sword to block another attack at the last moment.
“What’s wrong with him?” I demand. “He can’t see!”
“That’s Hypno’s special talent.” Bax’s voice is laced with scorn. I suppose he’s still insulted by my rebuke. “He hypnotizes anyone he’s fighting, though Collar has full control over it.”
The mercury in my blood scorches my veins. Shifting from one foot to the other, I pump my hands into fists, trying to expel the anxious energy.
Caben, kill him!
I know that it’s wrong to wish for death. But it’s Hypno or Caben. And I have no knowledge of Hypno—whether he is an innocent or not. He could have been a wanted man in his country. He could have killed innocents himself. Telling myself this doesn’t make my desire to see Caben kill right, but the darkness pooling in my blood demands it.
“What will you do when you’re able to live aboveground?” I ask Bax through clenched teeth. My mind needs a distraction.
His glowing eyes follow the fight in the Cage, and I assume he won’t answer. Then he says, “I’ll take my family far away from here.”
Turning my head just as Caben regains the upper hand, slashing Hypno along his calf, I say, “Your family?”